


The Hannady Bottle

by Dearing



Category: Frostpunk (Video Game)
Genre: Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23392795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dearing/pseuds/Dearing
Summary: They came in after last bell; four men fresh from the generator, grim faces dusted in ash and grime. Spoilers for 'The Fall of Winterhome' Oneshot.
Kudos: 12





	The Hannady Bottle

They came in after last bell; four men fresh from the generator, grim faces dusted in ash and grime.

I remember that look. It's been worn by many a face that's walked into this office. First time since I took it though. Hannady would often greet them with a smile and the 'Old Hannady Charm' as he called it.

Unless they were testy, like coiled springs ready to snap from pressure. Then he broke out the Hannady Bottle.

Not that the bottle had helped him in the end. Too many of Winterhome's own had come through his door that night.

And these men…nothing good will come from their mouths, I can tell. Testy don't do them justice.

Especially when one of them locks the door.

But I do my best.

"Evening, lads." I put on my best Captain's Grin, standing from my desk as the four line up before me with all the airs a firing squad. "Lost your way to the Pub? Easy mistake, easy mistake. I'd offer you a drink, but-"

"Captain, stop." A leader speaks, blue eyes watching me unblinking. "We know."

The room goes dead, my smile frozen to my face. They all watch me, all older than me I realize. All wearing that same expression; like disappointed fathers.

I hate that look, it's one I'm more familiar with. I saw it on every citizens' face when a body was pulled from a wrecked home, or when the generator's heat wasn't reaching enough of the tents. The looks of people regretting a decision.

They've got no one but themselves to blame. I didn't want this job. I was Hannady's secretary; I took his notes, kept his secrets…and I let the mob in when everything came crashing down.

That's why they trusted me. That's why they wanted me to lead them. I saw everything Hannady did, but I wasn't on his side. Better someone with an inkling of know-how on how to run this place than those more used to maintaining machines or digging in the mines.

And that look slides onto their mugs every time I fail. Never mind that the ruins were clear by the end of the first week. Never mind that people are warm and the sick are cared for.

The generator's failing. And because I'm in charge, that's on me.

The four men watch me, silent. Engineers, all. Nameless faces in a crowd of hundreds. Are the good at their jobs? Are they well-known in their neighbourhoods? Will the generator fail faster if I send them to the dreadnought?

I keep the smile pinned. "Know what, lads? You look like you know plenty between you."

"We figured out why you sent Kerry and his family to the dreadnought," the leader's says calmly, words punctuated with a sigh and sagging of shoulders. "You lied about the other city."

Not a question, the air all the colder for the statement in the air. Maybe they were like Kerry; maybe they looked at the maps, and saw the lack of settlements marked. It was a mistake I thought I didn't make twice; locking all maps we had in my desk until it's time to go.

Maybe they're just made smart by the years that have lined each of their faces.

But I force a laugh. "Are you daft? Of course there's more cities! Don't you think you'd be talking to her Majesty rather than me if the Empire had built just the one-"

"They might be more," one of the other's nods, voice thick with aristocracy, "but you don't know where they might lie. You deceived the populous, Captain. It cannot go on."

"We kept your secret to give you a chance to come clean," the leader continues, "but if you don't tell people the truth, we will."

Anger boils as my smile fades. Who the hell are they to judge me? They, and those like them, pushed me onto the stage to give news to desperate people. The generator's failing, but if we can refit the last dreadnought, we can find a new home. Desperate cries had gone up. Where could we go? What could we do? Where else but Winterhome could be sanctuary in the Frostland?

I'm no leader. I'm barely a good secretary. I blurted the first thing that entered my head.

" _There…there's another city!"_ I'd bellowed against the wind. _"New London! They'll help us! All we have to do is get there!"_

The relief had washed through the crowds like a warm Summer breeze. There had been cheering and laughter, a renewed vigour that had turned filled storage bins with food and coal and dreadnought decks into enough cabins for all of Winterhome to call it home.

We were so close. Everything is almost ready. And these four want the truth?

"The truth?" I spit. "You think the truth will help us now? The truth will do nothing but hurt us. If the people find out-"

"The consequences might be dire," the leader nods, "but they deserve to know what they're facing."

"Why. WHY!?" Heat bleeds into my words, inkwells and pens clattering as my fist slams into my desk. "Did the truth refit the dreadnought? Did the truth keep people calm and hopeful? Did it keep them at their posts, even as the generator dies and lives, day in, day out!? No lads. The truth would have hurt us. Winterhome would've burned twice if I'd told them there was no hope."

"There _is_ no hope, Captain." The leader's voice hardens, a threatening step forward giving him height to loom over me. "Your lie might keep people moving forward now, but what about after launch? Are you going to spin us round in circles until the coal reserves run dry? Are people going to believe this city of yours still exists as the food runs out." His gaze softens, and a heavy hand settles on my shoulder. "Do the right thing, Captain. Tell them the truth. Tell them what to expect, so they don't walk into this blind."

I close my eyes, head lowered, palms sweaty against the desk.

This won't end well. If the lie comes to light, they'll be no trust from those still in the city that they'll be evacuated. No doubt food and supplies will be stolen, riots will break out, and people will try to reach the dreadnought on their own. The guards will try and keep the peace…but in the end, will it even matter?

I've seen how this ends. I saw it in Kerry's face, desperate to get his family on board. I saw it in that other man's face, so desperate to reach his son that he fled the city, determined to reach the dreadnought by foot if he had to.

And I see it in the faces of these four men. They want their souls cleaned, their morals left intact. Never mind the rest of us, and the hope a lie had brought to this dying city.

I sigh, long and low, turning away from the leader and his men to the drinks cabinet. I haven't touched it since I took the office. Too many memories of Hannady and what he did in this room stand with the rows of bottles to take even a sip from them, but now…

Without a word, I pick up my mug, throwing the dregs into sink as I open the cabinet and reach for Hannady's bottle.

I can see the confused looks shared amongst the four in the glass doors as I pour moonshine into the mug, then pull out four crystal whiskey tumblers and set them out in front of my guests. They all watch, eyes uncertain, as a rich brown liquid is poured for them. I glare them all down as I set the bottle back behind me, mug in hand.

"You'll be up there with me, lads."

The leader shifts, uncomfortable. "Captain-"

"You want this. You're the _only_ ones who want this. I'll clear you're consciences, if that's what you want, but I'm not doing it alone. Either the four of you stand with me, or we see how many people take your word on this."

The four look to each other, not exactly eager, now their being forced to stand in the limelight.

One by one, a nod comes from each of them.

"All right-"

"Drink to it." I nod to the tumblers. "I want your word on this. You don't trust me, so I don't trust you. You run for the hills or evacuation centre after this and I'll make sure you won't be welcome on that dreadnought."

It's not an idle threat. They can see it in my eyes, I would hope. The leader's eyes roll after a moment, picking up the glass and motioning to the others to do the same.

I'm being humoured; the little captain trying his hardest to keep dignity in the eyes of the old dogs. They raise their glasses to me, and I raise my mug in turn.

"To the people of Winterhome. May they understand the why behind the lie."

There's a weak chuckle, before tumblers clink and moonshine downed. I watched the brown liquid disappear down throats, ignoring the weight in my chest as I let the liquid splash against my upper lip and no further.

After all, it's never pleasant, watching those who drink from Hannady's bottle.

The oldest feels it first, eyes bugging out, tumbler shattering on the floor as fingers go numb. The others quickly follow; limbs locking and shaking, hearts suddenly beating too fast in their chests. They collapse one by one, shaking and twisting, gasping for breath, mouths open in silent screams.

Say what you will about Hannady. The man knew his poisons.

"Oh, lads, I wish you'd been more like Kerry." My heart feels heavy as I reach for my pistol. "I could've used your hands on the dreadnought. All you had to do was ask."

The aristocrat stops moving, foam leaking from his mouth. The eldest is only a moment behind him, blood vessels popped in his eyes. The last minion seems to be doing everything he can to keep his heart from exploding. A bullet to the chest ends his pain.

The leader watches me between spasms, hate and confusion waring for space in his eyes.

"W….why?"

"I said I'd clear your conscience. I never said I'd come clean."

"M-monster…"

"Maybe," I aim between his eyes, determined to make this quick, "but I'm the monster that gave them hope."

The sounds of the shot is lost on the Frostland winds. By morning bell, there are four more bodies in the snow pit, and rumours around the streets of four engineers who fled the city in the night. Hope falls, but is quickly renewed.

After all, soon it will be time for us to go too.


End file.
